Mary saw it was Zora. Just then, too, Zora caught sight of them, and for a moment hesitated, then came on; the carriage was in front of the store, and she was bound for the store. A moment Mary hesitated, too, and then turned resolutely to greet her. But Zora's eyes did not see her. After one look at that sorrow-stricken face, Mary turned away.
Colonel Cresswell stood by the door, his hat on, his hands in his pockets.
"Well, Zora, what have you there?" he asked.
"Cotton, sir."
Harry Cresswell bent over it.
"Great heavens! Look at this cotton!" he ejaculated. His father approached. The cotton lay in silken handfuls, clean and shimmering, with threads full two inches long. The idlers, black and white, clustered round, gazing at it, and fingering it with repeated exclamations of astonishment.
"Where did this come from?" asked the Colonel sharply. He and Harry were both eying the girl intently.
"I raised it in the swamp," Zora replied quietly, in a dead voice. There was no pride of achievement in her manner, no gladness; all that had flown.
"Is that all?"
"No, sir; I think there's two bales."